Electric Scarecrow
Also known as 'The Shawlands Raver', this character makes frequent appearances throughout Glasgow, though is most frequently encountered around in either the Southside area or Dumbarton Road in the West End. His moniker is pretty much spot on and makes writing this a little redundant, however, for anyone who hasn't yet seen him or is restricted using some kind of stoneage web browser that wont show the picture on this article - he is probably most regularly described in one of those 'never came down from the acid' tales. The real story is shrouded in mystery, but one of the most commonly alluded to stories is that some construction accident where something heavy landed on his head. His colourful attire gains him a whole load of attention and swathes of people tail him looking for a sly snapshot that isn't just the back of his head. One can only imagine that his hair stylist is a team of Ooompa Loompas and that is flourecent vest + kilt combo he models was originally designed by a safety conscious Jacobite. Whatever the case, much respect to him for wearing his outfit with pride, the least than can be said is that he's a maverick with own style and doesn't answer to any man - so who's to judge? A story found at http://web.archive.org/web/20070821165639/www.bloodbus.com/blog26_the_electric_scarecrow.php helps shed some light on this well known character, the story is abridged just to fit on here, check the link for the full whack. (Just so you know, Bloodbus is an amazing old blog authored by a nightbus driver, tales from the dark underbelly of Glasgow's public transport, complete with amazing drawings to accompany each entry) 'I set off into town and got as far as St. George's cross before encountering more freakery. At a bus stop up ahead I could see someone wearing a high visibility vest. Damn. I figured it was an inspector from the company doing 'random' checks to make sure buses were not running early - which I most certainly was. From a distance it looked like Inspector Harry Potter, a known arse hole famed for his arse holery towards drivers. But I was wrong. It was arse holery of an altogether different kind. As I pulled into the stop I saw that the man was none other than the Electric Scarecrow - a notorious wacko who goes about Glasgow wearing garishly coloured pajama-like clothes and is always blasting his head off with headphones turned up to number eleven. As a result, everything he says is SHOUTED. This evening he came on my bus with ribbons and baubles in his hair and had painted henna-like tattoos on his face with dark blue felt tip pen. Definitely the nuttiest punter that a driver could everhope to get. I was privileged. He marched on to the bus, flopped his shoulder bag down onto the luggage rack and started fumbling through it's zipped pockets for his travel pass. I sat and waited for him. And waited. And waited. Even through the safety screen of my cab door, I could hear his headphones banging out 'River Deep, Mountain High'. And I waited. And waited. "YOU'RE TAKING AGES, BIG MAN!!" shouted the 'crow, still fumbling in his bag. He obviously wanted me to drive on while he rummaged for his pass, but I wasn't going anywhere 'till I'd seen it. He eventually held up a concession pass (wouldn't you just know it?) and I noticed that his hands were encrusted with mud. Had he just come from tending carrots and cabbages at a nearby allotment? No. More likely he had secretly just planted another crop of weed somewhere. The 'crow did not seat himself. Instead, he stood beside my cab shouting that I was "TAKING AGES", even whilst stopped at traffic lights. Anyone else would have been ejected for causing such a nuisance but I found him far too entertaining to fling off. A particular delight was when he removed a can of Fanta from his bag, opened it, and drank it through a curly straw! With his festive attire, effete musical leanings and now with a curly straw in his Fanta, I was beginning to think that he was just possibly a... "DRIVER, YOU'RE MAKING ME LATE FOR MY BOYFRIEND!" he shouted. Query answered. "HEY DRIVER! IF ANYONE ASKS, TELL THEM i LIKE GETTING SLAPPED RIGHT INTO THE DAFTIES!!" "Okay," I said, but I'm sure that wasn't all he liked getting 'slapped right into'. On we went towards town. A middle aged woman stood up and tried to open one of the bus windows. But these particular windows were quite difficult to pull open and, even using two hands, she struggled. "HEY DON'T OPEN THAT WINDOW MISSUS!" shouted the 'crow. "THE PRESSURE DIFFERENCE! WE'LL ALL BE SUCKED OOT! HA! HA! HA!" Unbelievably, the woman said, "Oh!" and actually sat down! I think she was quite affrighted of the 'crow. The Electric Scarecrow scares a crow: To me, he's a screwball I'll always remember - to her he's a screwball she'll never forget "HA! HA! HA! AM ONLY KIDDIN' MISSUS! HA! HA! HA! I'VE NOT LAUGHED LIKE THAT SINCE MY GRANNY CAUGHT HER TITS IN THE MANGLE! HA! HA! HA!" I was in convulsions in the cab and had to eject a blank ticket to write all this down on. Definitely one for the blog. At the bus stop outside Buchanan bus station the 'crow knocked on my cab door, "THIS STOP HERE, DRIVER!" I pulled in and opened the door. "CHEERS DRIVER. IF THEY ASK, TELL THEM I'VE LEFT THE COUNTRY!" "Okay," I said, but I knew he couldn't hear me. The Electric Scarecrow stepped off the bus, and for no reason that I could fathom, simply erupted in a convulsive "HOI!" at the top of his lungs. The guy is a star.' Category:Glasgow